Chapter 2! This story has me thinking about it all day and I can't wait to get to writing it so expect more without too much delay. This chapter is relatively short and but is ancillary to the main story (which will take place in the Forest of Dean starting next chapter!). Enjoy and feel free to drop me a message letting me know what you think about the fic and where you'd like to see it go from here! 3

The winter air froze Harry's breath as is exited his lips in a thin, controlled stream. Here, outside his own home, he stood frozen; a man paralyzed by a storm of emotions surging inside his chest. In the end, it was the image of that final look that pushed him over the edge and forced his hand to grasp the doorknob.

"Is that you, love?" He heard Ginny's voice echoing from the direction of the kitchen. The unctuous scent of steak and ale pie wafted his direction and Harry felt a pang of indecipherable emotion coarse through his body, making him slightly nauseated. He opened his mouth to call back a response, but despite efforts to summon up the words, he remained silent. Silence seems to be a theme today, thought Harry sardonically. With deliberate steps, he inched his way towards where Ginny's voice had issued forth from.

As he turned the corner from the living room and entered the kitchen, he caught sight of her. An image of domesticity, Ginny Weasley was dressed in a knee-length floral print dress covered in an apron emblazoned with "Red-Heads Do It Best". She beamed a smile his direction and gestured proudly towards the food. There was a radiant pride in her eyes that Harry couldn't help but find both endearing and profoundly sad. It also served to increase the soon to be overwhelming feeling of nausea in Harry's stomach. After taking him in for a second, Ginny's expression shifted almost instantaneously. Writ hard across her soft features was the unmistakable suspicion he'd begun to associate her with lately.

Ginny was not particularly confident when it came to their relationship. He knew that part of her had always feared that Harry had made a mistake when he'd said he'd loved her. That one day he'd say it was all a joke and that he'd never cared for her in the first place. The long hours at the Ministry had begun to erode the small amount of security she'd gained from their engagement and subsequent marriage. Every minute that ticked by on the clock that he wasn't home was another opportunity for infidelity and betrayal. Contrary to her paranoia, Harry had always cared very deeply for Ginny. He'd even loved her for a time. But love, as most discover the more experience with it they have, is not eternal.

"What's wrong, Har?" He barely held back a grimace. He hated hit that she shortened his name. She thought it was endearing, but he'd always found it repugnant. He cast a glance down at the lapels of his jacket, brushing absently at some imagined dust mite. As conflicted as he was about he currently feelings about his wife, and as much as he knew he wasn't about to do anything wrong, Harry still couldn't manage to begin explaining. Finally, after an increasingly steely silence, Harry cleared his throat and caught Ginny's eyes.

"I'm going out, Ginny. I don't know when I'll be back." He left it at that, hoping against hope that she'd let it be. That, perhaps just this once, she wouldn't demand an itemized itinerary for his every excursion outside the house. Her eyes, which had been narrowed in suspicion, were now slashes so thin, he wondered if she was still able to see him at all.

"Harry Potter, how dare you. How fucking dare you walk through that door, take a look at the meal I spent all day cooking, and feed me that-" It wasn't a question. It never was. Ginny had no interest in hearing what he had to say now. This was her time to let loose her insecurity and he was the target. 'Not tonight,' Harry thought to himself, his mind filled with thoughts of the forest. He thought if he tried hard enough he could smell the small campfire burning and his lips curved gently into a secret smile, against his better judgement.

"Ginny, I'm leaving. I'm sorry that it's as last minute as all this, but there's no avoiding it." She paused her verbal onslaught and pivoted. He knew exactly what she was about to ask. It was as if the two of them were acting out roles in a play they'd rehearsed a thousand times and neither could be bothered to improvise anything new.

"Where are you going, Harry? And with whom?" Harry swallowed heavily, took a deep breath and readied himself for her response.

"I'm going away for awhile. I don't know where yet." There was absolutely no way he was telling her where she could find him. The Forest of Dean was large, but not nearly large enough to risk Ginny ruining the escape from this life he'd found himself trapped in.

"With. Who. Harry."

"Hermione, Ginny. It has to do with 'The War'." Pure violence danced behind Ginny's hazel eyes. This is what Harry had been waiting for. Hermione was the sorest of subjects for Ginny. A product primarily of Molly's incessant doting, Ginny had harbored a simmering jealousy for Hermione for years. At one point, it had gotten so bad that Ginny had started turning down invitations from her family to gatherings just because she couldn't bear to be around the bushy-haired brunette. All that animosity came bubbling up to the surface, inflamed by the fuel which was her possessive paranoia for Harry's affection.

"No, Harry. No. Just no. I absolutely forbid it."

"You're not forbidding me anything, Ginny. If I'd known you were going to carry on this way, I wouldn't have come home in the first place." A lie. He'd needed things from the house before leaving and part of him refused to sneak out in the night like a little boy.

"Harry, don't you dare do this to me. Don't I mean more to you than this?" Her face had snapped directly from an anger-infused scowl to a pleading pout. She was a true professional manipulator. If she'd had more drive to succeed on her own, she could have been a top-tier mummer.

"I'm not doing anything to you, Ginny. I'm taking a few days to myself to get my head right."

"With her."

"Yes."

"I can't believe you. Why aren't I enough, Harry? Can't you tell me why I'm not enough for you?"

"For this?"

"Yes, Harry! Why can't I help you get your 'head right'?" In that question Harry caught the first genuine emotion he'd gotten from Ginny all night. Fear. Fear of inadequacy. Fear of losing Harry's love. It sent pangs of pain through his heart, but nowhere near enough to make him reconsider his decision. Gently, Harry approached his wife and placed a hand her cheek. Staring into her eyes, he sighed deeply and uttered the unvarnished truth.

"Because you weren't there." With that, Harry turned on his heels and made for the stairs to gather some particular items he wanted for the trip. By the time he'd made it to the second floor, he couldn't hear the sobbing anymore.

Heavy stuff, right? But the doldrums of love always hurt the most. At this point, I really imagine Harry isn't planning on betraying his marriage to Ginny, nor do I think he recognizes fully what is happening with Hermione. All he knows is that something with his situation is wrong and needs fixing. We'll see where he tries to find that repair. ;)